Aftershocks
by Hoodoo
Summary: Immediate follow-up to "Two Dates". Hannibal finally confronts Face and Murdock regarding their relationship with Kerry and gets confronted in return; B.A. just wants the whole thing to go away.
1. Chapter 1

_Standard disclaimer: no recognizable characters are mine, and no money is made from using the ones that are recognizable._

_Author's notes: This multi-chaptered fic takes place immediately after the team drives away at the end of **"Two Dates".** It contains an overly-reactive Hannibal, a sensitive Faceman, a Murdock who may be OOC, and a B.A. who gets some comfort and who mostly wants to lay low._

_There is also an OFC, because I apparently have a complusion that I can't control. I figured B.A. needs a girlfriend: a fiesty, too-smart-mouthed-for-her-own-good girlfriend; hence, Angel became. I've never written her and B.A.'s backstory, so I apologize that she just seems dumped in here with no forewarning. Here's some info: she's physically short, she's a free-lance computer programmer/hacker (depending on what side of the law you're on), she's got a Mexican mother and occasionally speaks Spanish. Now you know as much as I do, and this intro is closing in on being longer than the chapter._

_Thanks for your patience, and I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

><p>The drive was tense. What few words were shared were terse. No one had any opinions they wanted to voice aloud as to where they should be driving to, not even Hannibal, so when B.A. announced he was heading towards Chicago, no one commented.<p>

They could read between the lines when he made that decision. Even though everyone knew Hannibal's thoughts on stopping at loved ones' houses when there was a very real possibility that they were being followed, no one said anything as he pulled the van around the back of Angel's place. As uncomfortable and awkwardly silent the van became after he got out, the other three did let him go to the door first.

That was only polite.

B.A. knew he should have called, and would have given anything for a few minutes alone to make that call. But with what went down within the past few hours, and how Hannibal seemed to be handling the situation, he didn't want to risk World War Three breaking out inside his vehicle.

He wasn't worried she'd be asleep, even at this late hour, and knocked on the door.

He was right. In only a few minutes he could tell she was at the peep-hole, and in just a few seconds after that the lock was disengaged and she opened the door to him.

"Hi baby," he said quietly. He let her pull him into a hug. "We need a place to lay low for justa day or two."

"Of course!" she agreed immediately. She offered her cheek, expecting a kiss, but received only a despondent half-smile. "What's wrong?"

"You're the best, baby," B.A. replied instead of answering, and motioned over his shoulder for the other three to come in.

She wasn't deterred. "B.A., what's wrong? What is going on?"

His plan worked out though; he didn't have time to answer because his teammates were already coming up the sidewalk.

"I'll explain, Angel, I promise," he whispered to her. "Trust me, okay?"

"Of course I trust you—" she managed to say reproachfully before he finally kissed her.

The other three waited behind him until he finished. Angel composed herself and looked around B.A. to them.

"Come on in, fellas."

She stepped back into the house to let them enter.

After B.A., Hannibal was first. A hard set to his features puzzled her. Murdock was next, looking glum; then Face, who was radiating a contradictory mix of anger, dismay and grief. He was hunched in on himself, which was odd and disturbing.

Angel kept an eye on him before opting to be tactful. "You two look very nice," she said, indicating Murdock and Face. "You go on a double date or something?"

A chill dropped into the room. B.A. barely contained a groan as Hannibal seemed to swell with hostility. Face almost deflated in front of them, and unexpectedly, Murdock straightened himself and didn't flinch as he stared at Hannibal. The older man scowled, then turned on his heel to Angel.

"Thank you for your impromptu hospitality," he said to her. She could tell he was working very hard to keep anger out of his voice. "If you don't mind, I'm going to bed."

She managed to mutter, "Sure. You know where the towels and everything are."

With a curt nod and no other word to anyone else, Hannibal left the room.

The stress flooding the area abated somewhat, although not completely. Angel mentally kicked herself; this is what she got for being trying to be diplomatic! Stick with what you know, chica! Whatever is going on between these four, you managed to kick it right back in their faces and piss them off!

"You guys can sleep wherever you want," she said, trying to pretend that everything was fine. Who knew? Maybe by tomorrow it would be. "There's plenty of space in the spare bedroom—"

Face vigorously shook his head. "There is no way I'm sleeping in there with . . ."

Murdock muttered an agreement. "Rock, paper, scissors for the couch?" he asked.

Angel sighed. Maybe this wouldn't be finished by morning. Then she'd still have four disgruntled ex-Rangers in her house. "Whatever. I was just about to get to bed when you showed up, so I'm going now. B.A., you joining me?"

"Uh . . ." He looked at the other two. ". . . yeah. Sorry, guys."

Murdock gave a half-shrug and managed a half-smile. Face continued to look less than his typical self.

B.A. left them standing awkwardly in the living room as he followed Angel.


	2. Chapter 2

Under the duvet, B.A. was a mixture of happy and troubled. Happy that his girl was cuddled into his side, writing an unknown alphabet on his chest with her fingernails; troubled by everything that had just happened to the group.

He didn't understand it. Murdock, the crazy fool, was happy and seemed to be holding himself together. Face seemed happy too. It'd been interesting to watch the conman shift from a debonair, charismatic player to a slightly unsure, giddy idiot. Like he was testing virgin ice; like any misstep would result in a spectacular crash and burn.

Which it kind of did, although B.A. imagined it was not the direction Face would have expected the collapse would come from.

What B.A. didn't understand was Hannibal's problem with all this. B.A. wasn't necessarily down with it either, but even if it wasn't something he'd do personally, he could still be supportive of his teammates. It wasn't like they were hurting anybody or doing anything illegal. Shit, in the grand scheme of what this team had done, whatever Face and Murdock were doing as consenting adults wasn't even a blip on the radar.

Not that he wanted to know what they were doing. He had a pretty good idea of course, but didn't know specific details. Murdock and Face both had been tight-lipped about the situation. That surprised B.A. somewhat; he never thought the crazy fool could keep his mouth shut about anything, and the other fool wasn't shy about broadcasting his exploits either.

And the few times that Hannibal seemed like he was going to boil over and have a woman-ish moment that he needed to rant about it, B.A. shut him down. None o' his concern, he told the bossman directly. The pinched expression that crossed Hannibal's face made B.A. think that the boss upset he was supporting the other two.

Which, he supposed, he was. But they were grown men. They didn't need hand-holding and spoon-fed. B.A. figured they knew him well enough to know he wasn't against whatever weirdness they were doing in their personal lives.

"You gonna tell me what is going on?" Angel asked beside him.

He should have known he wasn't going to get away with not telling her tonight. But he could give it a try.

"Baby, I'm tired," he protested quietly. "Can't we just relax all nice an' warm here an' talk about this tomorrow?"

"Hmm. I guess I could just go back out to the living room and have a nice heart-to-heart with Face and Murdock. And I bet Hannibal's not sleeping yet either, so I could get his take too," she mused.

B.A. could almost see her roll her eyes, and twitched when she pinched him.

"No, we can't just wait until tomorrow!" Angel retorted. "I've got three ex-Rangers in my house acting all weird and shitty towards each other! I need to know what the hell is going on!"

B.A. sighed. It probably was best if she got the story from an uninvolved, unbiased outsider.

"Okay," he sighed again.

Angel wiggled against him. "I'll make it worth your while," she said happily.

As tempting as the offer was, he had to decline. "I really am tired, baby. Rain check?"

"Sure. You start talking, and just so you know, I'm going to be kissing you all over while you tell me."

B.A. couldn't deny her, and she listened to his interpretation of the events while she planted her lips on his chest.

For once, after exposing the sordid underbelly of the team and letting her peek into his private thoughts, Angel didn't counter with any pithy comments or outrageous, spot-on observations. She finished kissing him—she hadn't lied about kissing him all over—once he'd relayed all the information he knew and added the opinions he was thinking. B.A. didn't know whether to be grateful or disappointed as she nodded sleepily and fell asleep.

Disappointed, he decided. He wanted to know what she thought about the situation. With a sigh, he followed her into sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Angel was up and around before any of the others. That was very unusual; she typically slept late and reveille was still imbedded into their subconscious. But showing up on someone's doorstep at three in the morning probably messed with your internal alarm clock, she figured.

Quietly she crept through the house. Face had apparently won the rock, paper, scissors game for the couch, and was sleeping in a t-shirt and sweatpants with his back to the room. Murdock was curled into a fetal position on the floor, the blanket he'd received as a consolation prize bunched around his waist.

Angel debated covering him up fully but didn't want to wake him. She made her way to her work room and although she pulled the door behind her, she didn't shut it completely. With all the equipment, it got too hot in this room if the door latched.

She went to work.

Eventually she heard someone moving around. Leaning back in her chair, she saw through the space left by the semi-open door Murdock get up, stretch and crack his back. He'd changed out of his fancier clothing and was in a shirt and sweats too.

He noticed Face was still asleep. Carefully he used his blanket to cover his friend, then turned and rummaged through his duffel. Angel watched him find a pad and pencil and scribble something on the paper.

Murdock looked over the room again, trying to decide where to leave his note. He decided on the TV, and folded it into a self-standing triangle to sit on top. He picked up his shoes and started for the front door.

Angel scooted her chair closer to her door. "Hey! Hey!" she stage-whispered.

Murdock started and turned. When he saw her, he gave a weak smile that could have been classified as a grimace and came towards her.

She stood up and consciously made the effort not to read into the expression on his face.

"I didn't know anyone else was up," he said quietly.

"What are you doing?" Angel asked suspiciously.

He shrugged. "Nothing. I was just going to take a walk."

"A walk?"

"Maybe a jog. It's early; I won't have to worry about the heat yet."

Her suspicion didn't decrease much. "And you're coming back, right?"

The question startled him. "Of course I'm coming back," he said indignantly.

Good. If she could make him indignant, he was thinking like a member of the team.

"Where would I go?" Murdock asked in return. "Where could I possibly go?"

"Murdock, cariño—I just wanted to make sure I wasn't going to be held liable for losing you," Angel said, holding her hands out in defense. "It was purely a selfish motive—nothing against you at all."

He sensed she was kidding at her own expense and managed a small smile. B.A.'s girlfriend was sharp—sharp enough to cut you with her insight. He knew not to underestimate her, and deep down, he _had_ been thinking about walking out the door and just keep going. One of the muted voices in his head had suggested that.

"You know we all love you," she had continued, and squeezed his wrist.

Other, louder, voices in his head seconded her comment, and the muted voice was overruled.

"I know," Murdock replied simply.

Angel smiled beautifully at hearing the truth in his reply.

"Have a nice walk. I'll have breakfast ready by the time you get back!"

She was teasing again, purposefully: she was a horrible cook and proud of it. Murdock returned her smile and gave her a half hug with the arm that didn't have his shoes in it. Then he carefully made his way back through the living room and slipped out the front door.

Angel sighed as she heard the latch click behind him and turned to go back to work.


	4. Chapter 4

One moment Hannibal was asleep, the next, awake. It only took him a second to reorient himself in this strange bed in a strange room. He was both pleased that he wasn't confused when he woke up—the team changed locations too frequently for them not to be able to adjust—and saddened by the same fact.

He rubbed his face and pushed his fingers through his hair. No one was sharing the room with him. He wasn't surprised.

He hadn't slept well. The dull headache he'd gone to bed with was still making slow pulses behind his eyes. He knew the cause of it, and wasn't sure if he could do anything to make it disappear.

Tugging a tank top on—he didn't mind wearing only shorts around his boys, but did mind when they were in someone's home with that someone still there—he left the bedroom.

The bathroom was on the way to the living room. He stopped there first.

The toilet was still flushing as he got to the living room. Someone stirred on the couch, obviously awakened by the noise of the toilet too.

Face turned over, surprised to find himself covered with the blanket he'd insisted Murdock have. He sat up to give it back to him, but didn't find his friend on the floor beside him. The only other person in the room was Hannibal, and he certainly didn't look like he wanted to share a blanket.

"Good," Hannibal said, although the tone in his voice didn't make it sound like it was actually good. "You're awake."

"Uh—yeah," Face replied blearily, his voice hoarse from lack of sleep. He blinked owlishly at Hannibal and figured he was projecting his own lingering guilt and hearing more in his former CO's tone than was really there.

"I expected Murdock to be on the couch."

"Why? Because I suck at hand games with random outcomes?"

"Because I expected you to be in bed with B.A. and Angel."

Face stiffened at the sarcasm. He wasn't projecting. _"Excuse me?"_

There was an odd squeak, like the wheels of a chair from someplace in the house. Hannibal dismissed the sound. There couldn't be anyone else up. It was too early.

Hannibal watched him a moment with sharp eyes. "You heard me and you know what I meant. I'm glad I have this opportunity to talk to you privately about this . . . situation."

"_What _situation?" Face asked.

If Hannibal hadn't known him so well, the innocence in the question would have fooled him. But even with his headache, he did know the kid. He thought he knew him better than practically anyone else on the planet did. But then Face threw this curveball, this unexpected, unthinkable act that was going to FUBAR this well-oiled machine that he'd created, that was going to destroy this team that had withstood so much . . .

A pinpoint of red passed through Hannibal's vision. It was a warning sign, something that he'd learned to heed from long years of experience. The brightest it ever flared was when he confronted Morrison and held a gun to his old friend's head after the betrayal. This flash of red right now was almost as strong as he stared at his former Lieutenant. And even though he'd been able to previously rein his rage in and uncock the gun pointed at Morrison, he wasn't sure if he could do that now.

His head pounded and he swiped a hand across his forehead irritably.

"The situation of you fucking Murdock's girlfriend," he hissed. "The situation of you fucking over a man who's been nothing but patient and caring and exceptional to you. _That_ situation."

Face pulled back as if Hannibal had taken a physical swing at him.

"Whoa—whoa now, bossman!" he said in a harsh whisper. He held his hands up warily, as if to ward off an animal that was very close to attacking. "Are you sure you want to talk about this right now? You don't seem like you got enough sleep—"

"Don't patronize me! We're dealing with this right here, right now!"

Face pushed his hands through his hair in an effort to calm down. "Hannibal, I think it would be better to—"

"Right now, Lieutenant!"

Hannibal took a step towards the couch and Face was immediately on his feet. He didn't back up, but didn't want the former Colonel looming over him either. He held Hannibal's blue gaze with his own.

"Hannibal," he cautioned in a low tone.

Face didn't know where anyone else was, but assumed they were still asleep. He tried to keep his voice steady and soft to avoid waking them and to placate Hannibal. Face knew that this confrontation had been coming, knew he couldn't avoid it, but he would do everything in his power to keep it under control. He wished he'd just been man enough to talk to Hannibal about it before now, so it would be reasonable, instead of having to deal with an enraged bull who looked like he had the beginnings of a migraine.

He continued quietly, "You need to calm down a little here. You—"

"Don't tell me what I need or don't need to do!" Hannibal spit back. His voice was forcefully hoarse too. "Not when you've crossed lines that shouldn't be crossed! You've gone too far this time, Face—"

"Hannibal," he warned again.

"—I know your moral code is skewed, but even you have to have _some_ sense of decency—"

"_Hannibal,"_ Face said even more loudly, the end of the word rising in pitch.

"—to do that to Murdock—to sleep with his girlfriend and twist him around to make him think it's okay—"

Suddenly Face clenched his fists. The thought that people were sleeping was gone. He had tried to keep it civil, he _tried, _but in an blink his control was gone and abruptly his voice rang out. "Hannibal, shut your fucking mouth about things you don't know anything about!"

As if he'd been waiting for a cue from Face, Hannibal shouted back, "What don't I know? I know that you manipulate and you take what you want. What else is there?"

Face took a hostile step towards Hannibal, and struggled to get his voice back under control. He was only partially successful. "You don't know _anything._ I have _never_ fucked Kerry. I have _never_ fucked around with Murdock's head. I would _never_ do that.

"And what's this about morals, Colonel? Huh? _What _about my morals? Seems like you're okay if my "skewed morals" are corrupted enough to help you out. That it's okay if they benefit you and the team, but not when it comes to my personal life? That's a fucking double standard—"

"Face's morals aren't the problem here, Hannibal," Murdock said even more loudly, over his friend's tirade.

So focused on each other, neither of the other two had heard him come in from outside.

"You have a problem with moral values, Hannibal, you'd better apply your high and mighty standards to me."

Face managed to step away from Hannibal and unclenched his fists. "Murdock, this is between him and me—"

"It sounds like it's between him and us," Murdock interrupted.

Hannibal clenched his jaw, which made the pounding ache behind his eyes worse. Again he tried wiping the pain away with his palm. Behind him, Murdock saw Angel open her door and stand there, taking everything in with wide eyes. Just as the other two men hadn't noticed him come in, they didn't notice her watching the scene either.

"I heard you from _outside,_ Hannibal," continued Murdock. "About Face manipulating me—"

"I'm only trying to make sure you don't get hurt!"

"What?" Murdock countered, not acknowledging the slightly beseeching note in his former CO's voice. Neither Face nor Hannibal ever recalled such a cold bearing come out of their pilot before. "You think that I'm incapable of making decisions? That my mental state or the drugs I use incapacitate me, make me unable to accept or decline options? That I'm intestable?

"_Is that what you think, Hannibal?" _

Hannibal had the wherewithal to look taken aback.

"No! Murdock, no! I don't think that at all! It's just—"

"Face had nothing to do with this!" Murdock snarled. He took a visible breath and surprisingly, his voice lost just a touch of its animosity, as if increased oxygen calmed him. "Kerry and I—_we _decided as rational adults, as _consenting _adults, to ask Face to join us. Do you understand that, Colonel? Face didn't proposition us—_we_ propositioned him!"

The blazing anger fizzled out of Hannibal, leaving only a shell of throbbing pain reverberating through his skull. For a man who prided himself on examining every angle of a situation, it had never once occurred to him that Face didn't initiate and perpetuate this triangle.

"Murdock—Face . . . I, I . . ." he stuttered.

"What I don't understand is why it's any of anyone else's business," Angel interjected.


	5. Chapter 5

From the bedroom, B.A. shot up in the bed. He'd been woken by the quarrel between Hannibal and Face; it would have been more surprising _not_ to be woken up by all the shouting. He remained on his back, wishing that this wasn't the way the morning was going to start.

Because if the morning started this way, it was going to bleed through the rest of the day too, and into the unforeseeable future.

He had groaned to himself when he heard Hannibal accuse Face of sleeping with Kerry and messing with Murdock's head. He seriously considered pulling the pillow over his ears when Face retorted he hadn't fucked Kerry; when Murdock jumped into the fray B.A. wondered if he could fit through the bedroom window and leave all three stupid fools behind.

Then he realized they didn't know he had heard! He could just let everything simmer down—it sounded like it was going that direction—and join them later, pretending he knew nothing about this disaster!

But then Angel spoke up.

Her house wasn't large. That was the reason he'd heard almost word-for-word the exchange between his teammates. And because his teammates had paused in their accusations and rebuttals, he heard her clear as day too.

"Oh hell no," B.A. muttered to himself as she continued.

"Hannibal, I understand that it's nothing you would do personally," he heard through the wall, "let alone be something you'd _condone_. But it has nothing to do with you! What Face and Murdock do in their own time is up to them. You don't have control over every aspect of their lives—"

B.A. was up and out of the bed, throwing open the bedroom door without pausing to find a shirt or pants. He knew Angel had a mouth on her and wasn't intimidated by much—not even a pissed off Hannibal Smith, it appeared—but to berate the ex-Colonel _using B.A.'s own statements from the night before—_

Angel hadn't stopped and was actually building up steam as B.A. darted to the living room in just his underwear.

"—it's none of your business—yes, I know I said that before but it's the bottom line of the whole thing! If Murdock is happy and Face is happy, then doesn't that count for something? Or is the all-powerful, omniscient Hannibal Smith unable to accept that whatever personal plan you had for your boys is falling apart because of something you can't fathom?

"No one asked you, you butted in—"

B.A. didn't look at the other three. He just grabbed Angel into a hug, breaking her verbal stride momentarily. She caught it again quickly.

"Right, B.A.?" she asked. "Ask him, Hannibal—just ask and find out—"

"Okay, Angel—you've made your point," B.A. broke in, spinning her so she wasn't facing the others any longer. He didn't want to be dragged into this conversation, and had the feeling if one of the others processed her last remark, he would be asked questions he'd be uncomfortable to answer.

As she took a breath he said pointedly, "Remember your own advice: it ain't _nobody's_ business. Right?"

To her credit, Angel shut up. She thought over what he'd just emphasized and nodded. When B.A. was confident she'd stopped talking for good—for now—he glanced up at the other men.

Murdock had stepped next to Face. The two were close but not touching, and for once it looked to B.A. as if Murdock was comforting Face instead of the other way round. The two were exchanging quiet words; B.A. caught snippets:

"You okay?"

"—know the whole situation's fucked—shouldn't ever have—"

"No, Face . . . not his decision—"

"But—"

"No! We're fine—"

B.A. pointedly stopped watching them when Murdock tugged Face close for a hug. By default, his attention shifted to Hannibal.

The bossman was looking defeated and bewildered. It startled B.A. He had the highest admiration for his former CO and seeing him stunned and unnerved was never a pleasant thing. He was rubbing his forehead and right temple and staring at the floor, the wall, anywhere but at the people in front of him.

Although it wasn't his typical nature to try and alleviate hurt feelings, B.A. felt compelled to say something.

"Hey, Colonel. Just—"

Hannibal waved him silent, and without a word himself turned on his heel and went back down the hallway to the bedrooms.

The quartet still standing in the living room glanced awkwardly at each other. B.A. muttered something about needing to get dressed, but didn't move until they heard the door of the spare bedroom Hannibal had used close. Murdock asked if anyone was hungry; no one said they were but he told them he was making breakfast anyway.

He and B.A. left the room, leaving Face and Angel. Face combed his hair with his fingers again, looking impossibly tired, and Angel decided, even if she didn't want to, she should finish up the project she was working on. It wouldn't take much more time, and then she could see what she could do to help smooth this situation over between the guys.


	6. Chapter 6

This bit of programming was trickier than she expected it to be, and soon the smells of bacon wafting through the room stole her attention away from her work. She didn't even know she _had_ bacon in the house. Leave it to Murdock to make something that was likely to bring them all to the table.

Even as she stretched her neck and stood up, a knuckle rapped on the door.

"Breakfast's ready, baby," B.A. said, carefully pushing the door open. "You hungry?"

"I'm hungry," Angel replied truthfully. "Is anybody else?"

"Good question."

He never entered the room unless he was invited; she gestured to him that it was okay. B.A. left the door barely open, like she had, as he joined her. It was dark in here, and took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim light from the monitors. The underlying hum of electronics was present, a steady thrumming in his ears.

"It's nice in here. Quiet," he said as she leaned against him.

"Yeah, you'd think," Angel replied with a slight grimace.

He read between the lines. "The guys are real sorry about the commotion this morning."

She lifted an eyebrow. "Really. Hannibal said that?"

"Okay . . . so the Colonel hasn't come back outta his room yet. But I'm gettin' the vibe that Face an' Crazy are sorry. Murdock made some kinda fruity drink for ya. A peace offering, I think. Aqua fresca, maybe?"

Angel couldn't hide the surprise on her face. "Aqua fresca?"

"Yeah."

"Where does he get these things?" she asked more to herself than to be answered. Like the bacon, she had been pretty sure she didn't have lots of fresh fruit lying around.

B.A. shrugged. "Extra-special store for loonies?"

She slapped his chest playfully.

"I don't know, baby," he amended. He shook his head and shifted gears with a voice drop. "I just want this whole thing ta be over. Pushed under the rug an' forgotten. I don't like my boys fightin'."

Angel smiled. Did any of them know that B.A. called them 'his boys'? Probably not, she decided; it wasn't something he'd say in their presence. She hoped they at least knew that that's how he thought of them, though.

"Oh, nene," she soothed, and tugged him downward to wrap her arms around his head and neck. "It'll . . . work out. It's worrisome and it's tough, but . . ."

He barely nodded. She used her fingernails to lightly scratch his head, which made him groan in appreciation. They stood together for a moment, then Angel said,

"I mentioned I'm hungry? I don't want to let breakfast go to waste."

B.A. decided he could eat too.


	7. Chapter 7

At the start, breakfast was only slightly painful. Murdock did his best to act his typical relaxed self, but occasionally his façade slipped and he brooded for a moment or two. Face, Angel was surprised to discover, was the more miserable of the two. He stood up and was able to flash her his signature smile as she joined them at the small table. As she sat, though, the smile faltered.

Hannibal didn't join them.

Angel hadn't lied; she was hungry and immediately filled her plate. B.A. did too, and the other two made motions to do the same.

For several minutes no one said anything. Angel devoured a slice of bacon, then went after her eggs.

"You eat those like they're gonna get away from you," B.A. chuckled.

She barely paused in between bites. "It's not often that I get good food cooked specially in my own house. I have to take it when I can get it!"

Murdock gave her a smile and filled her glass.

"And aqua fresca!" she exclaimed, accepting it. "Murdock, you're _amazing._ I wish you guys would stay here forever, so I could eat like this all the time!"

She touched her juice glass against Murdock as a toast, then drank.

"You don't want us here forever," Murdock disagreed. "Face, tell her how many crunches she'd have to do to work off my cooking."

"Too damn many to count," he replied, with a forced lightness in his tone. "It's all I do, it seems."

He tried to smile again, but was only half-able. Angel noted that Face wasn't eating much, if anything. He pushed his food around his plate like a little kid.

He glanced up, saw her watching him, and looked away again. He took a breath, paused, then took another one. This time he seemed unable to prevent himself from muttering peevishly,

"Hannibal wouldn't let us stay anyway. He'd find something wrong with something—"

"Hey now," B.A. interrupted.

"Faceman—" Murdock said at the same time, squeezing his wrist.

Face didn't finish his complaint but the aura around him crackled with spite. He glanced at all three of them again. Angel saw his gaze flicked several times to her. His eyes were still the blue of a cloudless sky, but his complexion was sallow and the skin under his eyes looked bruised.

She'd never seen him looking so . . . absolutely horrible.

"I'm so sorry!" he said suddenly. She glanced at Murdock and B.A., not sure who he was talking to. Neither of them were looking at her, though. "I'm so . . . fucking . . ."

Murdock sighed, although it wasn't an exasperated breath. He released Face's wrist and made to slip his arm over his friend's shoulders. Face shook him off and wiped angrily at his eyes.

Angel realized the bruising she'd cataloged was puffiness and broken capillaries from crying. It made her chest ache.

Face seemed to have gotten himself back under control. He looked directly at her; his eyes were brighter blue now, contrasting the red in them. "I'm sorry," he apologized again, "that you had to hear all that this morning. It was something that should have been done privately, a long time ago."

"It wasn't your fault. It wasn't _anybody's _fault," Murdock said softly. It had the cadence of a chant, as if he'd been saying it over and over while she was sequestered in her workroom, out of earshot.

Murdock had given up trying to put an arm over Face's shoulders, and was rubbing his back instead.

Face shook his head crossly. "I'm not arguing about this. _My_ fault. I should never have—"

"You're not arguing about it and I'm not talking about it anymore," countered Murdock.

Face flinched a little.

B.A. cleared his throat uneasily. It was an unexpected noise, and the other three at the table turned to him.

"Seems ta me . . ." he began, then stopped. Angel found his leg under the table. He started again. "Seems ta me that it ain't you two that's the problem here. You know I don't talk shit about the Colonel—"

He gave them each a hard look as if they had accused him of that, before he continued.

"—but he was outta line. Way outta line this morning."

Angel nodded beside him, and Murdock was managing a small smile of gratitude. His eyes were bright with unshed tears now, but he didn't wipe them away. Face, however, was still withdrawn and hunched. Abruptly he stood up, the movement rocking and tipping his chair over. It startled the others, and made them stand up too.

"I need to . . . just . . . step outside for a minute," he said weakly, and turned away from the table. His body language screamed: get away from here! run!

Angel caught him before he sprinted. She took his upper arms and turned him to her. Now he couldn't look her in the face.

"You're _exhausted,_" she admonished gently. "You need to go lie down and rest."

"I can . . . rest . . . in the van."

She shook her head. "No. You need to really sleep. Use my bed—"

Even though he didn't look at her, he started shaking his head.

"—yes, you are, that's exactly where you're going," she continued in spite of his disagreement. She turned him on his heel and directed him towards her bedroom. "Move it along, soldier! I mean it!"

Face only feebly protested as Angel pushed him physically to her bedroom. She made sure he actually got into the bed and under the duvet before she left him.

This was going to be a long day.


	8. Chapter 8

Angel got in another few hours of work after helping clear the breakfast table silently with the other two. Murdock wandered outside again, and B.A. looked lost for a moment, until she set him up with a printer she had been having trouble with. He perked up and took it to the couch immediately to open the cover and examine it.

Before he got too involved with it, Angel gave him a kiss—a real kiss, the kind that said she was grateful for him and glad he was here and maybe later we'll do even more—and left him to return to her computers.

Later she heard the front door open and close again, and the soft murmur of B.A. and Murdock exchanging words. She leaned back in her chair and glanced out the door to see the pilot heading down the hallway of the bedrooms. She didn't think he was going to visit Hannibal.

He didn't reappear.

Angel went back to work.

When it was time for a break, she stretched again. B.A. had drifted off on the couch, surrounded by bits of the printer. Neither Face nor Murdock were around; when she tiptoed to her bedroom door and opened it carefully, just a crack, she saw them together in the bed, sleeping soundly.

She debated checking on Hannibal, then went back to the kitchen.

Quietly she brewed a cup of tea. Then, even more quietly, she carried it to her spare bedroom. Cursing herself under her breath, she retreated to the bathroom to grab the pill vial she had forgotten, then once again went to the spare bedroom.

She gave a very soft knock, more of a courtesy, really, and opened the door.

Hannibal picked up his head to see who was invading the room, covered his eyes with a hand, and lay back down.

Angel took that as enough invitation to come inside. She shut the door behind her and made her way to the bed. She set the mug of tea on the bedside table and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"I brought you some Imitrex," she told him softly. She didn't wait for him to accept or decline the drug; she shook a tablet out of the vial and found his free hand to press it into his palm.

Hannibal closed his fingers over the tablet and half sat up. Angel steadied him and offered the tea. After he took the medication and swallowed it with a gulp of liquid, she took the mug away again but left it so he'd have easy access to it if he wanted.

He lay back down with a groan and covered his eyes again. In a similar way to before, she took his other hand in hers.

"More drugs?" he croaked.

"No. Just massage."

Angel rubbed and manipulated his fingers and palm, and after a few minutes, found the meaty pressure point between his thumb and first finger. She applied a steady pressure there, and was rewarded with another groan from Hannibal. It was not the same pained noise he had made earlier.

She kept it up for another few minutes, then rested his hand back beside him where she found it.

Hannibal had readjusted. Now instead of his hand, he used his forearm to shield his eyes.

"I fucked things up out there, didn't I?"

Although surprised to hear such a direct and self-depreciating comment, Angel couldn't help but nod slightly.

"Yeah. Kind of."

Hannibal groaned once more.

"Am I wrong? It's just not right . . . it's just not normal. Why . . ."

"Are you upset that they're . . . doing that, or that you thought Face was the one who . . . started it . . .?"

Hannibal lifted his arm just enough to look at her with one eye.

"I admit that Murdock claiming it was him threw me for a loop," he said honestly. "You know Face. The man's a walking, unbridled . . . animal. Like he's always in rut. I've tried to make him understand that he doesn't have to . . . degrade . . . himself to be valuable, that people like him because of _him—"_

This was heading into territory that Angel wasn't greatly comfortable with. She wasn't, however, quite sure how to stop him.

"—but the stubborn idiot doesn't listen! It's so ingrained in him that he needs to . . . use his body to get what he wants. When he said he hadn't . . . fucked Kerry . . . I don't know what to believe.

"All of it's so messed up. I don't know what to think."

Still a little shocked that the fortress that was Hannibal Smith was being so candid with her, Angel decided that if he was going to be direct, so would she. She was a master at that game.

"So . . . you're upset because you don't believe Face wouldn't—didn't—screw Kerry? Or you do believe him? I'm confused. You think maybe instead he's fucking Murdock?"

She received another stare from one blue eye, and had her answer.

"Are you worried they're gay?"

Hannibal lifted his lip. "I'm worried Face is forcing Murdock to do this!"

Angel shook her head. "You heard Murdock. He said—"

"I know that Face's . . . door has a bi-directional hinge!" Hannibal interrupted. "He probably knows I know—I've caught him with guys in compromising positions, I've been there when he comes staggering in smelling like another man's cologne! But we don't talk about it, it didn't matter, as long as he did his job!"

"Then why does it matter now?" Angel asked, truly puzzled.

"Because it'll affect the dynamics of this team!" he answered, in a tone that indicated she should have known that all along.

Ah, thought Angel, now we're getting to the meat of this problem.

"Hannibal," she said after a lengthy pause of reflection, "how long has your team been together?"

"Going on twelve years," he mumbled from under his arm.

"Twelve years. You've all shared barracks, hotel rooms, the back of the van, showers—everything and everywhere. Why on earth do you think that you four will have problems now? Just because Murdock and Face are sharing one more thing—ugh, that sounds awful!"

Suddenly Angel giggled. Hannibal looked at her again.

"See what I mean?" he asked. "I'm right. It _is _awful."

"No, no!" she insisted, trying not to move the mattress too much in case his migraine was movement sensitive. "I mean calling Kerry a _thing!_ That's awful! I've never even met this woman, never even heard of her before last night, and I bet she's a great person. Would Murdock hook up with a chica who wasn't on the right side of cool? Would _Face?"_

This time Hannibal moved his arm enough that he could look at her with both eyes. Angel met his gaze steadily. She was secretly happy to see the lines on his face melt from hard, non-comprehending anger to a softer expression.

He nodded a little bit. "Kerry seems like a nice girl."

"She gets along well with everybody? She's cool?"

"She helped when Murdock was having some mental issues. She didn't turn tail."

"Mmm-hmm. You look like you were going to say something else?"

"Murdock dated her awhile ago. Then we had to leave. But then we came back, and he contacted her again."

"So he's kept her in his thoughts, and since she agreed to see him again, she was into him too. Isn't that something."

Her last three words were said as a statement, not a question. Hannibal narrowed his eyes a little bit, catching her meaning, but didn't respond with animosity.

"They seem to get along well." He cleared his throat, and the next words caught in his throat a little. "They. Ha. A-all of them. All thr-three of them."

Angel hoped she was conveying a positive, encouraging expression.

"And . . . ?"

Once again, Hannibal groaned through gritted teeth. This time he paired it with rubbing his eyes, hard, which Angel took as a good sign his migraine might be lessening.

"It's so wrong!" he told her.

She also took it as a good sign that although he said it forcefully, he also sounded a little bit befuddled.

"Hannibal . . ." Angel started, then stopped to collect her thoughts. This was a circular conversation, and she wanted to make sure she kept up with it. Finally she took a breath. "Hannibal, listen. I know, I _know _this is a weird thing. I get that! And to be completely honest, it's not something I could—or would—do either. But it doesn't sound like they were hurting anybody. They weren't doing it maliciously or to prove some kind of alternate lifestyle point. They were—are—doing it because it's right for _them."_

Hannibal gave up covering his face at looked at her directly. _"I_ don't think it's right."

Angel shrugged. "Doesn't matter. It doesn't matter what you think, or what B.A. thinks. Wait—I take that back. It _does_ matter what you think, but you're not going to get the result you think you want. You keep being all Pecksniffian on them and you're going to piss them off. Then, if they decide to continue even knowing what you think and how you think it, they'll hide it. Then you'll have secrets on your team. How's that going to work out?"

He only watched her. The critical veneer his expression held slipped a little. Angel could imagine the calculations going on in his head. She decided to push her point a little more.

"And they might get to the point that they figure they're better off without you. You can't reason with people in love or lust. You know that."

She saw understanding—reluctant understanding, but understanding nonetheless—creep over his features.

"You don't have to agree with it, Hannibal," she emphasized softly. "You don't have to do it yourself or anything weird like that. You just have to support them."

Hannibal opened his mouth slightly to answer, then just as quickly shut it again.

"Hey, I'm not saying wear a shirt or do a fun-run or anything!" Angel laughed. The appalled look on his face indicated that yes, that's what he thought she meant by supporting them. "I mean just stop shouting at them and accusing Face of things that you don't have all the information on. And stop looking all disgusted and disapproving. That's a big one."

Angel took another breath. She thought about continuing, she could always talk on, but since Hannibal had taken on the appearance of thoughtfulness with a smidgen of sorrow she didn't.

After they sat quietly together for a little while, Angel asked,

"You okay?"

The furrows in his forehead didn't soften much. "I suppose," he answered truthfully. "I guess I'm just . . . old-fashioned. Can't keep up with all these young people today, with all their fads and alternate threeway lifestyles . . ."

Angel laughed, and was pleased the wrinkles left his forehead and showed up in the corners of his eyes instead.

"Don't lump all us youngsters in with them," she corrected. "I don't plan on sharing B.A. with anyone. No way, no how."

Hannibal ran a sharp eye over her. "How did Bosco manage to snag you? You're witty, you're beautiful, you've got razor sharp instincts . . ."

"You tyin' to pick me up, Hannibal?" she teased. "Tryin' to horn in on B.A.'s racket?"

He smiled and held up his hands in defense. She returned the grin.

"Maybe you're asking the wrong question," she mused. "Maybe you oughtta be asking why I'm good enough for _him."_

Hannibal caught the laughter in her voice but didn't miss the seriousness in her eyes.

"You've got good men, Colonel. Don't force your values down someone's throat just because you think you know best. Don't fix things that aren't yours to fix."

He was about to amend his compliments of her to include wise, but she leaned over, kissed him soundly on the forehead and said,

"Get some more rest, Hannibal. You'll need your strength when you apologize to Murdock and Face later."

Pushy and cocksure, he added to the list in his head. But he smiled at her and squeezed her hand before she left him alone again in the bedroom.


	9. Chapter 9

It was several hours later before Hannibal emerged from the bedroom. The medicine Angel had given him worked and the debilitating headache was gone, although he still felt a bit weak. He changed from sleepwear to regular clothes, and hoped that everyone else had too.

At his reappearance into the living room, B.A. stood up. His movement made Face look up from the magazine he'd been staring blankly into; warily the conman got to his feet too.

Trying not to make it obvious even through it was, B.A. kept his eyes on Hannibal as he went across the room to knock on Angel's door.

"Babe? Colonel's up."

Apparently that was some kind of code, because she opened the door and came out. She closed the door tightly behind herself as she did.

Giving a brisk nod, she said,

"Murdock's outside. I'll go get him."

And apparently Hannibal wasn't trusted to be adult enough to handle this situation and initiate the discussion by himself.

Angel disappeared through the kitchen to the back door. Because of the heavy silence in the living room, the three of them heard her calling for and then talking quietly to Murdock. When she came back in, Hannibal thought maybe the pilot had refused to follow; in a second, however, Murdock had.

Not pausing, Angel walked to the front door. Stopping before opening it, she held her hand out to B.A.

The black man cast a look to each of his teammates, then joined her. It was obvious the two of them making themselves scarce was something that had been discussed.

"Don't go into my workroom," Angel cautioned over her shoulder. "If it comes down to throwing and smashing stuff, anything else is fair game. In fact—do in the TV, so I can justify buying a flat screen."

Nobody chuckled at her attempt to joke.

Hannibal both understood why and half-wished they weren't leaving. But he didn't say anything as the couple departed. The sound of the door closing behind them had an ominous feel to it, and the crunch of gravel as the van drove away was the sound of a life-line being yanked out of reach.

Hannibal sighed and ran a hand over his face. It wasn't the same gesture as earlier in the morning, and the two men with him noticed the difference. When Hannibal opened his eyes again, he saw them studying him closely.

Face was still cagey as he stood by the couch. He had the subtle tension of someone ready to cut and run. A pang slipped through Hannibal; that posture was a remnant of the kid's sketchy past, and it had taken some time for the instinct to be suppressed. Hannibal never imagined he'd be the reason it was back.

Murdock's bearing was still a bit of a surprise. The pilot radiated self-possession and subtle impatience. His shoulders were slightly thrown back, and the faint furrows on his forehead gave Hannibal the distinct impression he'd best tread lightly.

The older man tried to decide how to address this issue. Angel'd been right; just spitting at them wasn't going to accomplish anything.

As Hannibal drew his breath, Murdock brushed passed him to stand by Face.

Hannibal didn't blame him. He could almost see the thought process behind the movement: separated, they were individual targets for the irrational rage they expected him to rain down on them. Now, it was two on one. Strength in numbers.

Hannibal had to nod at the rationality.

At his head movement, Murdock broke the discomfited silence.

"Well?"

Hannibal still took a second to sort through his mind.

When he didn't answer right away, Murdock continued.

"You gonna start in again about decency and principles? You want to tell us, again, about how I'm mentally incompetent, and how I can't possibly know what may or not be okay between consenting adults? About how Face uses and abuses any and all situations to his personal advantage?"

The acrimony in the questions cut through Hannibal.

He shook his head slowly. "No," he replied. He worked to make his voice neutral, so they wouldn't read into it as insincere.

"Then what?"

"Jesus, Murdock, give me a second!"

"You've had seconds. You've had hours. You were the one who came out swinging this morning, forcing your ideology on the entire household! What's stopping you now?"

"Captain!"

Usually the use of the title plus the tone of reproach backed Murdock off. Not this time. The pilot bristled.

"Tell me, _Colonel._ Tell _us._ Tell us what, in these past hours, that clever, calculating brain of yours has come up with to convince us what we're doing is wrong. How it affronts and affects you _personally._ And your plan for making us stop."

Hannibal flinched. He met Murdock's searing gaze, then slid his away from the indignation to Face's. The conman was standing a little straighter, bolstered by his friend's righteous anger.

His blue eyes were still troubled, however.

Hannibal took a breath. "I don't have a plan for making you stop. I hope that you'll be able to see my point."

Murdock snarled wordlessly, an ugly noise neither of the other two had heard him make before.

"It's not your decision, Hannibal, and what you think is right _isn't!"_

The older man held up his hands. "Let me finish. You wanted to know what I think? I'll tell you."

He didn't add that he thought Murdock ought to calm down, because that sort of patronizing statement would only lead to a deeper, more dangerous anger. He did pause, however, to allow the pilot to catch his breath. As he hoped, too, Face took the momentary break to carefully grip his friend's elbow.

"This is what you wanted, buddy," he murmured. "Remember? You wanted us all to talk it over—I know, I know, even if it's not his business! But now that it's out, and out like this, we have to discuss it. Remember?"

Murdock's sharp gaze slipped from Hannibal to Face, and he gave a quick nod. Hannibal saw the tightening grip of support from Face's hand.

"All right," he said curtly, his eyes leaving his friend's to Hannibal's again. "Start."

The discourteous prompt made Hannibal tense slightly, but he forced his own anger down.

"Fine," he said, trying very hard not to reply with as much brusqueness as Murdock had. That was difficult. "Yes, earlier I said things about being worried Face was asserting too much control over your . . . situation. I said I was concerned that you, Murdock, were being taken advantage of. And I know you told me you weren't!" he added quickly, over the protests spilling from both men's mouths. "I _know._ But I'm still worried—I'm allowed to still worry!"

"We're _adults,_ Hannibal."

Finally, a direct response from Face.

"Yes. Yes you are. I've realized that. I know that. What you do . . . it's not something I can even pretend to understand. Okay? It's alien to me. I just don't understand—"

"Oh, please," Face snorted. "You're going to stand there and tell us you've never had the passing thought about how you'd like two women in bed at the same time? That's such a common fantasy it's cliché."

"I'm not saying that's not crossed my mind—"

"Then there's your double standard again—"

"_That's not the point I'm trying to make here!"_ Hannibal said loudly. "Let me finish! Please."

At the _please_, Face pressed his lips together. Hannibal took that as permission.

"I'm trying to say I don't understand it, but I guess that doesn't matter."

Murdock and Face glanced at one another. This was what they had hoped for, but it was surprising to actually hear him admit it out loud.

Hannibal took another breath and continued. "You're right. You're both consenting adults. It's not my business—"

The hand holding Murdock's elbow squeezed again. Hannibal saw it.

"—_unless,"_ he added, before either could reply to him or say anything. The hand became very still, keeping the grip tight. Hannibal could see fingernails digging into the skin of Murdock's arm, but the pilot didn't acknowledge the pain in his focus on Hannibal. "_Unless_ it starts affecting this team."

Hannibal knew that statement would rile again. He wasn't wrong.

"_Has it?"_ Murdock exploded. "With the exception of us being out in public on a date and having that stupid, random encounter with El Diablo, has what we've been doing in the bedroom, on our own personal time, affected _anything?_ Has it, Hannibal?"

"No," he had to admit, and Murdock yowled a triumphant noise.

The sound had the tattered edges of insanity to it. Both other men heard and catalogued it automatically. Face removed his hand from Murdock's arm to slip it around his waist to keep him grounded.

"Murdock, buddy," he said quietly, hoping to calm his friend down enough to prevent him from tumbling headlong down that recognizable icy slope.

Even Hannibal took a step forward, as if his presence could help steady the pilot.

Murdock glanced over the two of them, his eyes overly bright and wide.

Hannibal chanced reaching out and placing a hand on his shoulder.

At the touch, Murdock shivered and then shook his shoulder until the offending hand slipped off. He looked up, and was able to re-focus on the man in front of him.

"Nothing we've done privately has affected this team, Hannibal," he rephrased clearly. "What you did this morning, though . . . what you did to Faceman and what you tried to do to me—that had the distinct potential to break everything. Everything."

Hannibal flinched a second time since this conversation started. Through bouts of madness, puppet shows, and random accents, he knew better than to underestimate his pilot's intelligence and ability to put his finger on the crux of a problem.

Hannibal could do nothing but yield to that.

"You're absolutely right, Murdock," he said contritely. "I overstepped my boundaries, and said a slew of things that were inappropriate and . . . hurtful."

The undercurrent of stress that had permeated the air around the two standing before him slowly dissipated, and Face swayed a minute amount as his knees tried to give out. With a quick, responding slip of an arm around his waist from Murdock, he was able to keep standing.

Hannibal watched the interaction, and a new sting of regret made him cold.

Even though earlier they hadn't wanted to give Hannibal the physical advantage of looming over them, now the two eased to the couch. It made the older man feel out of place, and he dropped to his heels to bring his gaze equal, if not slightly lower, with theirs again.

Two sets of eyes took him in.

"I _am_ serious about it affecting this team in the future," he said quietly.

That was the second declaration that contained the potential for inflammatory consequences, and Hannibal waited for it.

However, Murdock's rage seemed depleted at this point. He wasn't one to nurture anger and let it propel him. He only looked at Hannibal with lucid eyes.

"We're adults," he replied simply. "If a problem comes up, we'll deal with it."

Hannibal had one last button to push, one last point he needed to make, no matter what the result would be. He had to know.

"And if _I _think the team's affected? If I think one or both of you is compromised and not doing your job? If I think your relationship with Kerry and . . . each other . . . is causing problems, I'm going to tell you."

Face ran his free hand through his hair. Murdock glanced at his friend, then back at Hannibal.

"Okay," he agreed. Although his voice was quiet, the impression of control he'd started this scene with, and almost lost, was back.

With Murdock's concurring answer, Face let out his breath and nodded too.

* * *

><p>When B.A. and Angel returned later, carrying bags of food as either peace offerings or congratulatory gifts, the atmosphere in her house was much less anxiety-ridden. Both of them sighed in relief, and backs were clapped and hugs given all around. The group settled into a meal that had much more flavor than the one earlier that day.<p> 


End file.
